didn't see how
she was going to get through the hours between breakfast and the time to
start for the game. It was a relief to see Jimsy coming across the lawn
at ten o'clock. She ran out to meet him.

"Hello, Jimsy!"

"'Lo, Skipper. Isn't this weather the deuce?"

"Beastly, but it doesn't really matter. We're certain to----" she broke
off and looked closely at him. "Jimsy, what's the matter?"

"Oh ... nothing."

"Yes, there is! Come on in the house. There's no one home. Stepper's
driving Miss Bruce-Drummond and Muzzie's being marcelled." She did not
speak again until they were in the living room. "Now, tell me."

"Why--it's nothing, really. Feeling kind of seedy, that's all. Didn't
have much sleep."

"Jimsy! You didn't--you weren't out with Carter?"

"Just for a little while. We went to a Movie. Coach told us to--keep our
minds off the game. But I was home and in the house at nine-thirty. It
was--Dad. He came in about midnight. I--I didn't go to bed at all."

"_Oh_...." Her eyes yearned over him, over them both. "Jimsy, I'm so
terribly sorry. Is he--how is he now?"

"Sleeping. I guess he'll sleep all day. Gee--I wish I could!" His young
face looked gray and strained.

The girl drew a long breath. "Jimsy, you've got to sleep now. You've got
to put it--you've got to put your father away--out of your mind. You
don't belong to him to-day; you belong to the team; you belong to
L. A.... No matter what's happening to _you_, you've got to do your
best--and--and _be_ your best."

"If I can," he said, haggardly.

"Lie down on the couch."

"Oh, I don't want to lie down, Skipper--I'll just----"

"Lie down on the couch, Jimsy!" She herded him firmly to the couch,
tucked a soft, flat pillow under his head, threw a light afghan over
him. Then she opened a window wide to the wet sweet air and drew the
other shades down, and came to sit on the floor beside him, talking all
the time, softly, lazily, about the English lady novelist who didn't
take sugar "to" her porridge ... about the giddy mocking bird, singing
in the rain ... about a new book which Carter thought was wonderful and
which she couldn't see through at all ... until his quick, burdened
breathing yielded to a long relaxing sigh like that of a tired puppy,
and the hope of L. A. High and the last of the "Wild Kings" slept. She
mounted rigid guard over him for three hours, banishing the returned
stepfather and house-guest, keeping her noisy little brothers a